


Something that wasn’t to be expected - except it totally was

by Agin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (light), Accidental Voyeurism, Bottom Jim, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Pining, Power Play, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agin/pseuds/Agin
Summary: Jim is perfectly fine with him and Bones being nothing else than friends. And he’d never think about Spock in a sexual context.Much less would he be pining overbothof them.…right?
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 187





	1. Things you can’t unsee

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you'll have fun reading.
> 
> All comments are welcome and cherished.
> 
> (As always, I have no beta. All mistakes are mine. Mine alone. Be nice to them, they have feelings, too. 😂)

„Hell, as if I have the faintest, how this blasted… thing… even happened,” Bones says, and Jim tries to come up with one of his usual obnoxious comments.

He feels strangely adrift.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The day before, there was a harvest festival to be attended. One of those embrace-the-joy events.

Normally, Jim would have been all over it – or, more like, all over at least one of those gorgeous and open-minded women. But he hadn’t been in the right mood. Hadn’t been for quite some time now, to be honest. Nothing Jim likes to think about all too much.

So… being all proper and such, Jim had expected and received both Bones’ approval and concern. What he definitely hadn’t expected was the sight of Bones being anything _but_ proper. Least of all with Spock.

_Spock._

_Spock and Bones._

The thought alone still feels ridiculous. Like something that happened in another universe – a particularly strange one, for that.

***

„Hell, as if I have the faintest, how this blasted… thing… even happened,” Bones says later despite Jim not asking for an explanation. Despite him not even _hinting_ at said “thing”.

This whole situation should be the perfect opportunity for endless and merciless teasing. Instead, Jim finds himself rushing from the Med Bay with some feeble excuse. His own behaviour is…

Jim has always been comfortable around Bones. Even at the beginning when they barely knew each other. Even after propositioning Bones on their first night at Starfleet Academy and getting turned down – the incident they never, ever talk about because Jim will never, ever allow it.

Bones is his best friend. There shouldn’t be a reason for Jim to flee like this. Or, to flee at all.

He’ll go back later and get started with the teasing and such.

***

Jim does not go back later. 

***

"Yes," Jim thinks.

Spock has remarkably precise corners of the mouth, accentuating both the strong and defined line of his upper and the soft curve of his bottom lip. “Soft” being a capital word when you contemplate the skin. Pale. Chapped just in one tiny place – a flaw to emphasize the surrounding perfection.

And Jim wonders if Bones had been able to feel the contrast with Spock’s lips stretched around –

“Captain.”

_Uhm… Well… Shit._ Spock has been right there the entire time. Waiting for an answer to… What was it again?

Most certainly not, “Am I right to infer that you are obsessing over me performing oral sex on Doctor McCoy and thus are too distracted to adequately carry out your duty?” 

Or maybe that exact meaning is implied in Spock’s aggressively neutral expression. The Vulcan probably knows exactly what’s going on in Jim’s mind. With all the staring and stuff. No touch telepathy needed.

_Touch_

There’s a loaded word, isn’t there?

Somehow, Jim has never perceived Spock as a sexual being. Sure, the Vulcan might be a highly attractive individuum who’s even been in a short relationship with Uhura and isn’t as emotionless as he pretends to be – far from it. 

Nevertheless – he is _Spock_. Imagining him in any kind of messy activity, pursued for the sole purpose of experiencing pleasure, seems preposterous. 

Doesn’t it?

It’s also an enticing thought – because he is _Spock_. 

Enticing only in an abstract manner, naturally. Because, as previously stated, Jim doesn’t think about his First in command - and, maybe, almost, friend - in a sexual context.

But if he would… He’d never have pictured Spock in the position he had seen him in. On his knees with someone else’s hands in his hair, messing it up. Messing _him_ up. Pushing between those fascinating lips, going deep and hard, and –

“Captain.”

Aaaand… he has done it again. _God_ , Jim really needs to get a grip. 

“Yes, Commander?” he says, forces himself to meet Spock’s eyes and valiantly ignores the blush he can’t fight back.

***

_Bones’ head thrown back against the wall, his throat bared and his Adam’s apple standing out, beckoning… He has his arms at his sides. Fists clenched as if forcing himself_ not _to grab hold of Spock’s hair, yank him closer, force him to just take it._

Jim bites on the four fingers he has shoved into his mouth without conscious thought. His other hand works frantically under his pants, rubbing and pulling against the restraining fabric. Too caught up in the fantasy, in the memory, to do something against it just yet.

_The muscles in Bones’ arms straining. It comes almost as a surprise how fit he is. How well formed. He should wear short sleeves more often. Should wear them all the time, really. Should take it off. His shirt. Spock could do this for him. He could rip it off, just like that. Jim is sure of it._

_But Spock is busy with other things._

_Jim can only see the back of his head. Can see it moving. Slowly, measured. Composed even in this situation. What would it take to make him loose control? To get up and grab Jim ruthlessly, shove him against the wall next to Bones. Or, to push him down with superior strength, to open his own trousers and force Jim’s mouth open._

Jim pulls down his pants. Cool air hits his overheated skin. Almost like a touch. But no one is touching him, not even Jim himself. Not between his legs. Instead, he puts one hand into his hair and yanks his head back. The other is still at his mouth.

Bereaved like that he moves his hips, shoves against nothing but air, imagines intense gazes on him, on his exposed flesh.

Jim whimpers. He feels pinned. Seen in a way he can’t afford to. It is dangerous. Intoxicating. He wants more. He wants -

_Jim wants to run. Except, he doesn’t._

_Bones’ eyes closed. Spock’s head moving, suddenly changing the speed. And Bones’ head snaps forward, mouth opened around a silent moan. Jim would have expected him to be louder, more vocal. A secondary thought, because Bones’ eyes open and lock on Jim’s, and Spock’s head is still moving, and Bones_ groans _deep in his throat. His hips buck. He is still looking at Jim._

_And Jim…_

“Shit,” is all Jim can think. “Shit, shit, shit.” Come is drying on his stomach, his pants cut into his legs. 

He doesn’t get up, but stares at the ceiling of his cabin.

***

“James Tiberius Kirk!”

“Sorry, Bones. I have to –“

“No, you don’t!”

Jim turns the corner and makes a run for it. 

“Damnit, Jim!” he hears behind his back. And, hey, there is the turbolift coming. Just in time.

***

“So, Spock, I didn’t know you were… You know… Interested in… Especially not in the position of the one who… Uhm… Not, that I ever imagined you in this way… Or, in any other…,” Jim says eloquently – and against his intention to avoid this subject at all costs. Apparently, he should have sewn up his mouth, or, at least, found some excuse to get out of his weekly chess match with Spock.

Avoiding Bones alone doesn’t seem to be enough.

Jim forces himself to hold Spock’s gaze, feigns nonchalance while fervently trying to come up with a way out of this situation. 

Maybe Spock has no idea what Jim was talking about? Maybe he’ll say something like, “Would you care to elaborate, Captain? Your behaviour is, yet again, mystifying and lacking the competence one would expect from a Starfleet Officer.” And all would be good. Normal.

Realizing that he’s fiddling around with a chess piece, Jim stills his movement. The pawn is a silent weight between his fingers. And Spock is still looking at him.

Jim should really say something. Anything. Or, well, not _anything_.

Spock looks and looks. With this non-expression of his that does nothing to hide but instead emphasizes his intensity.

Jim never quite new how to deal with being on the receiving end of this gaze. He is tempted to put on his most obnoxious grin and ask, “Like what you see?” Which would be such a very, very, very dumb thing to do. 

As dumb as staring at Spock’s mouth. Again. While having the Vulcan’s full attention. 

Yeah…

Jim contemplates throwing himself out of an airlock. Realizes that he is licking his lips. Stops. Finally looks away from Spock’s mouth just to find his gaze again.

Spock lifts an eyebrow.

“As a matter of fact, Captain,” he says, and how has Jim never noticed the richness and the deep yet soft note in his voice? “When engaging in intimate physical contact, I prefer to do so with a male partner as opposed to a female.”

Jim blinks. His fingertips are tingling, and he puts down the chess figure, accidentally knocking over part of those still standing on the board. _Smooth. Very smooth..._

“The question of my preferred role in the dynamic between sexual partners has more than one answer,” Spock continues, composed as ever, while putting the chess pieces back onto their previous positions. 

Then, he raises his eyes again and traps Jim’s gaze – again.

“First, I value an interaction of equal partners, as I do neither engage in sexual intercourse with someone who is in an inferior or subordinate position to me, nor with a person who, as you would say, ‘can’t give as good as they get’. Each possible encounter can be concluded to my satisfaction without anyone taking on a specific role other than being themselves.”

“Beyond that, I am, as you have clearly never imagined, the more dominant partner. I do take control.”

Jim blinks again. His fingertips are still tingling. He feels his nostrils flare, takes a deep breath, gulps. Frowns. Blinks again. Looks to the side, all the while feeling Spock’s presence.

And Spock continues talking, “Now, let us look at the encounter you witnessed. To assume that the person performing oral sex is necessarily the one who is submitting to another is a misconception. Just consider how vulnerable you are with someone else’s mouth around your cock.”

…

Jim’s brain might have exploded.

Spock did not just… Right? He’d never talk about sex. Much less like this. Never use such words. Like _cock_. Or _fuck._ Not that he had actually said the latter. 

How would it sound like if he did? 

Tantalizing. The thought is very tanta -

“Jim,” Spock says. Not _Captain_. _Jim_ , Spock said. Which he never does without being prompted.

Suddenly, the room around Jim feels too confining, too small. Spock is watching him. His gaze puts Jim on display even more than it did before. What is Jim giving away with his posture, his facial expression? 

What could he give away in the first place?

Usually, Jim knows exactly how to hide the essential things. Details, he covers up with a seemingly all-out open persona. Now, it’s all a blur.

Spock is about to say something else.

Jim interrupts him, hastily, before the Vulcan can form another word. “We should call it a day.” 

Jim hates the diffuse panic which he feels welling up. He is better than that! Or maybe he isn’t.

“I don’t feel so… You know?” he hears himself continue. “Maybe something I ate. The replicators have been acting up, lately. I should talk to Scotty about that. Immediately tomorrow.” Jim nods to himself. “Yes,” he emphasizes, nods again as if he could push away anything else through the movement alone.

And did Spock just sigh? That can’t possibly be true. Even less than him talking about…

“If you are quite sure, Captain,” Spock says. _Captain_. Not _Jim_. Back to normal. Just like that.

Jim nods again. “Sure. Yeah. Totally.”

He doesn’t move from his chair after Spock has left the cabin. _Alone again._

Jim puts his hand on the table, lifts it, picks up a chess piece. One of those which Spock had set up again. It is neither warm nor cold. 

Jim puts it back. 

It’s late, already. Maybe he should go to bed.


	2. Things you can't do

Jim can’t let it go.

He just _can’t_.

Sitting among their hosts from the latest might-be-friendly planet, Jim takes a sip of some lemony water and pointedly doesn’t stare across the large wooden table, doesn’t stare at Spock. He has to concentrate to do so. That fact alone is a bad sign. 

And one which Jim has been all too familiar with, lately.

“Now, let us look at the encounter you witnessed,” Spock’s voice seems to whisper intimately in Jim’s mind. “…someone else’s mouth around your cock,” it adds, a low rumble underlying those words. A soft breath, and then, firm and calm, “I do take control.”

Jim bites his lower lip without meaning to.

_Had Spock been coming on to him?_

The thought, strange from the very start, sounds more and more ridiculous with each repetition. With each hour, each day passing by.

It has been almost a week since that evening in Jim’s cabin. 

_THAT EVENING._

Jim might be trying to forget it – but let’s be honest. He can’t, and he won’t. It’s an event worthy of capital letters imprinted in his mind’s eyes and the ghost of remembered words.

Or… Jim is imagining things. And developing an awful penchant for over dramatization.

Bones would have a good laugh if he could read Jim’s mind. Which – no. It’s more likely that he’d kick Jim’s ass. Repeatedly. And then never talk to him again.

Jim’s gaze finds his best friend whom he has been avoiding for days now. Holds on to his expressive face, his jawline and nose in profile. Follows the bow of his lips and his cheekbones and finds his eyebrows - wilder than Spock’s but equally versatile. 

Come to think about it; in a way Spock and Bones are eerily alike while being simultaneously so different. 

They are both highly intelligent and competent, loyal, straightforward and passionate – because even if Spock won’t show it, Jim _knows_ that he is not in the slightest as emotionless as he pretends to be. And they are both putting up with Jim. And, yes, all right… At least in the solitude of his own mind Jim should admit to it: They are both hot es hell.

Following this train of thought, Jim realizes that a more intimate, maybe even romantic connection could actually work for Bones and Spock. Even if they’d be fighting all the time. It is so _obvious_ when you look more closely. 

They’d make a perfect and beautiful pair.

All of a sudden, Jim feels ill.

The glass of lemony water is still in his hand. Unnoticed until now. 

Jim puts it down onto the wooden table and watches the soft to and thro of the liquid. Watches until it settles down. The slightly distorted form of a knothole is visible through the water. Everything is calm. And unmoving. And – _really silent_.

Realization dawning on him, Jim raises his eyes.

The leader of their hosts is looking at him expectantly. Waits for… something. He had been giving a short speech just now, hadn’t he?

_Damn it all to hell!_

Time to put aside personal business and feelings and whatever, channel his inner Captain and bullshit like the champion of bullshit Jim is. Or, alternatively, send Uhura a silent ‘help me’ and try not to wither under her deadly glare.

***

Jim can’t sleep. 

Well… To tell the truth – he hasn’t even tried to.

Because…

Yeah…

He might be afraid to lie down. To be alone in his cabin with his imagination and that damned lack of control and those memories he can’t seem to shake.

So, instead of getting some shuteye, Jim has been sitting on the Observation Deck and stared into the darkness of space. He has been down to Engineering where he wasn’t needed and at the Mess Hall where he didn’t eat. He has walked through the corridors of his ship, ending up in front of Sick Bay four times. He never went in. Bones is off shift, anyway.

After all this, Jim has been working out for three hours straight. 

He still feels restless and keyed up.

Going back to his cabin is a decision born of a lack of anything else to do. On his way, he even plays with the thought to get some paperwork done. _Dire times require dire means_ , he jokes to himself. At least, he hasn’t yet lost his gallows humour.

Jim is just turning the corner and entering the corridor, in which his cabin is located, when he sees Bones. 

At Spock’s door. 

With Spock standing in the doorway. 

They are awfully close, and Bones’ hair is messed up. Spock takes one step closer, still. 

And Jim comes to a sudden stop. Recoils. Moves back around the corner without having consciously decided to do so.

 _So, Bones... Don’t know, how _this_ one happened, as well?_ All of a sudden, Jim is angry. 

Did Spock talk to Bones like he talked to him? _Used some dirty words, didn’t you? Used your intense gaze and a meaningful slant to your eyebrow?_

What are they doing right now? Are they kissing? In the open doorway for anyone to see?

Jim clenches his fists so hard it hurts.

A relationship between Bones and Spock isn’t against regulations. Still… They could be more discreet. No need to rub their newfound… Their newfound… What?

 _Are_ they an item, now? Or are they just fucking around? Has there been more than a blowjob this time? How often have they been meeting, anyway?

And what the hell is Jim doing? Hiding around a corner like some sad, little creep?

He has – contrary to Uhura’s nagging – _some_ self-respect.

That’s _his_ cabin next to Spock’s. And he can walk down there. Regardless of Bones and Spock fucking like rabbits in the open doorway. Or whatever. It’s not his problem if he sees them, but their own fault for exposing themselves like that. It has nothing to do with Jim.

Yes… 

It has nothing to do with him.

...

Jim shrugs off this thought. What doesn’t actually work. But – fuck it! He walks back around the corner.

Bones and Spock _are_ kissing. The human way and the vulcan. Tongues and fingers entwined. Hips obviously moving against each other.

Jim does his very best to ignore them. 

His body feels weird. Tense and full of excess energy almost bursting out of his skin. Each step seems overly strong. As if his feet were connecting too hard with the ground despite him walking completely normal.

He reaches his door and opens it. All the while staring straight ahead even though he can sense Bones and Spock looking at him. 

When he goes inside, he hears Bones say his name. 

It’s enough to send a hot jolt through Jim’s body and redden his view for a moment. If it was possible, he’d have _slammed_ the door shut.


	3. Things you do

“Jim!” Bones’ voice resonates entirely too loud in Jim’s cabin. And what is the man doing here, anyway?

“What are you doing here?” Jim speaks his thought aloud. Tries to, at least. It sounds more like, “Wha’re you do’in ‘ere?” This isn’t particularly easy - talking with your tongue all numb and uncooperative. 

Ah, well… 

He might have had a bit too much of that… What was it? Too much of that very nasty and very potent whatever-it’s-called alcohol.

Come to think of it, where is the bottle?

Jim searches half-heartedly, pats the room to his left and his right. Feels hard ground against his shoulder blades when he moves. He seems to be lying on his back. On the floor. And the ceiling is kind of spinning far above. 

And spinning, and spinning and -

Closing his eyes is not a good decision, Jim realizes as soon as he does. Now, even the floor underneath his body seems to be in movement.

“You called me,” Bones’ voice drifts through the general swaying and lurching, and Jim squints up at him.

He looks somewhat funny upside down like this. And blurry. And much too close, all of a sudden. Kneeling next to Jim, one hand almost touching his shoulder.

_Uhm…_

“Sure didn’t.” Jim turns his head to the other side. And, hey, there is the bottle. 

Jim blinks a few times, then tries to focus his eyes. Well, it would seem that he’ll need to find something new to drink.

“Yes, you did.” Bones shuffles around, gives off an uncharacteristic unease for some reason.

Whatever.

Jim fiddles with the communicator lying on his chest. It is a hard and familiar weight. Rounded edges, cool material, smooth to the touch. The chip on the upper left side. There hadn’t been a reason to repair it, as –

Wait.

His comm is lying on his chest?

 _Damn_ it. 

Jim actually might have called Bones, after all. Now that he thinks about it… He _is_ kind of missing some time. How long has he even been lying on the floor?

“Come on,” Bones says. ”Lets get you into bed. You can sleep it off, and tomorrow we’ll have a long-needed talk.”

That doesn’t sound ominous _at all_.

Alarming. That’s what it is. Very much so. 

Jim turns to his side, turns away from Bones. “Can’t do,” he says, noticing with regret that he is starting so sober up. “Am avoiding you.”

“Yes.” Bones voice is a dry growl behind Jim. “I noticed.”

Jim ignores his words, too occupied with one awful question: What had he said to Bones while being completely smashed out of his mind? Jim tries to remember, tries to _think_ through the sluggishness of his mind. 

But no. There is nothing. Nothing but a very bad feeling.

“Just go away,” Jim says.

“If you think, I’d leave you alone like this, you are even more of a moron than usually.” Bones gives Jim’s shoulder a careful shove. Too careful. Almost painfully cautious. They have never been like this around one another.

Jim hates it. “No,” he says. “And haven’t you, like, anywhere more important to be?”

“I am _here_ , now.”

Reflexively, Jim snorts. The floor is cold beneath his body. Especially his feet. What might come from him not wearing any socks. 

Bones sighs. “Jim, you need to lie down.”

“Already am.”

“You need to lie down, but _not_ on the floor.”

“You trying to get me into bed, Bones?” Jim sneers, glad to be still facing the other way. “What would Spock say? Can’t break his vulcan heart just like that, can you?”

“Jim.”

“You know, it’s _so_ incredible how you always remember my name.”

“Jim…”

“And again. Nicely done.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Before Jim even senses a movement, Bones has already pulled at his head, bared he neck and injected him with a damn Hypo.

“What the fuck?!” Jim jumps to his feet, cursing, and almost loses his balance when the room lurches around him. It’s Bones who steadies him with a sure grip.

Jim jerks back, trips over something – the damn bottle – and, yet again, is steadied by Bones.

“Just leave me alone!” Jim growls and shoves Bones away. “I haven’t asked for you to come here. To _break_ into my room, to be all _caring_ as if you’d actually –“ 

Jim stops himself, sucks in a breath, starts again, “You have _no_ right –“ 

He doesn’t manage to finish this sentence, either. “I am off duty,” he ploughs on instead. “My decision what to do with my free time.”

And isn’t that wonderful? Jim is completely sober, now. Must have been the fucking Hypo.

_Thanks _so_ much, Bones. Couldn’t at least let me have this, could you? One sad night of drunken stupor._

“You do know that I’ll just start drinking again, right?” Jim says with a vicious undertone. “Why don’t you just fuck off, so I can get to it.”

He picks up the almost empty bottle, puts it to his lips and, with the movement, turns his back to Bones. There are about two swigs left. They burn on his tongue and in his throat. 

Jim can hear Bones draw in a deep breath and waits for the tirade to start. Instead, Bones’ voice sounds infuriatingly soft when he finally speaks, “Why exactly are you so angry, right now?”

Jim whirls around again. “You –“ he starts.

“I hit you with hypos multiple times before,” Bones continues as if Jim hadn’t tried to say anything. “I even broke into your cabin once. To reprogram your replicator so it would only give you a reasonable amount of coffee per day. You didn’t react like you do now, but cursed a bit and then went ahead to reprogram _my_ replicator to always spice my coffee with salt. And you installed a camera to catch my first sip.”

Jim snorts despite himself, shortly derailed. Because… yeah, he does have a hilarious picture of Bones spitting out his _special_ coffee, was even planning to print it on a mug. Parade it in front of Bones. Something like that.

This thought has a gloomy touch, now. 

And all of a sudden, the fight leaves Jim, is replaced by an empty feeling, a bone-deep tiredness.

“You know what?” Jim says. “I’ll go and take a shower. And you can leave and go… wherever.”

Then, he does go and takes a shower.

***

Jim brushes his teeth, too. Because his mouth tastes as if something died in there. And even if he is going to drink some more – which, yes, will absolutely happen – he still wants to feel clean. For some unspecified reason it soothes him a little bit.

Still, his mood remains gloomy.

Jim has been feeling down all day. Since last night, really. With Bones and Spock… let’s say, doing their thing.

Looking at Spock not a single time during Alpha Shift had been difficult. Not for the usual reason. Not because Jim _wanted_ to look but rather because he could feel Spock’s gaze boring holes into his head.

Jim knows that he’ll need to get this under control. Get himself under control. But not tonight.

Hopefully, Bones will be gone by now.

Jim puts on his clothes, forgoing the pants, because… why bother? His clothes are comfortable and casual. Soft fabric, threadbare shirt and low-hanging trousers. He is off duty in all respects. 

_Now, lets see which kind of poison I’ve still left to drown myself in_ , Jim thinks and leaves the bathroom.


	4. Things you want - Part 1

When Jim enters his room, he is glad that he didn’t just go for a towel only. Or came back butt naked.

Because… Bones _hasn’t_ left. Worse, even: He is not alone. Spock is standing next to him. Both are looking at Jim.

And Jim snaps.

He rushes past Spock, pointedly ignoring him, and gets up in Bones’ face. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he growls.

“I already told you.” Of course, Bones isn’t easily intimidated. “We need to talk. And we will do so. Now. _Before_ you drown yourself in some godawful poison again.” 

“Well, thanks for clearing that up. You really do care _so_ much,” Jim bites.

“He does.” Spock’s voice is very close, and Jim flinches, would back away if there was any room to do so. But there isn’t, he realizes. All of a sudden, he is effectively trapped between Spock and Bones.

Jim is still processing this new situation, when strong hands grip his shoulders and turn him around. Move him as easily as a puppet. It happens so fast and unexpected, he doesn’t even think about putting up a fight.

For a moment, he stares at Spock, his thunder stolen. But then –

But then Spock jerks at him again. And pulls him closer, still. And Jim…

Jim…

Jim’s thoughts are numb with shock.

Because Spock is kissing him. With soft yet insistent lips. A hint of tongue. Light suction against Jim’s bottom lip, teeth scraping for a moment. Almost a bite.

Jim hears himself whimper.

He leans against Spock, his body acting on its own, following an invisible pull, and he parts his lips a little bit more. Spock’s hand is at Jim’s neck, holding him close while Jim’s own hands are hanging at his sides. Usually, he’d know exactly what to do with them. But now… This is _Spock_ kissing him.

Jim’s brain is still trying to catch up.

This is _Spock_ who nibbles at Jim’s lips. _Spock_ who runs his hand through Jim’s hair, who strengthens his grip. Who slowly but inexorably pulls Jim’s head back, parting their lips again.

“I have come to learn,” Spock says, and Jim feels the words against his skin, “that in dealing with humans the employment of action as opposed to words can be an efficient way to convey one’s meaning or get the attention of an otherwise inattentive counterpart.”

Spock’s lips brush Jim’s for a fleeting moment, and Jim tries to prolong the touch. He is held back by the hand in his hair.

“Do I have your attention, Jim?” Spock asks.

Which, yeah, he might.

“Leonard and I –“

 _Yeah… Shit!_

Reality hits Jim in a sudden and cold surge. Upon hearing the name, he can’t believe he has forgotten about Bones. 

Who is still standing behind him. Whose boyfriend - or partner or fuckbuddy or whatever term might apply - Jim has just kissed. Well, to be fair, has been kissed by. But – semantics. 

Jim liked it. Loved it. Wants it again, if he’s honest.

Same as he wants to feel Bones’ lips. Has always wanted to, but not that acutely for a long time - until now. 

Bones… Who hasn’t even tried to interfere. Which makes the whole situation even worse.

And what has Spock been _thinking_? He can’t just- 

Except he absolutely can, as it seems. And Jim is dumb enough to play along like the idiot he is.

Have both Spock and Bones been planning this? As a way to put him in his place or some shit like that? No. That doesn’t seem like them, at all. Does it?

Either way, Bones fucking _deserves_ to have witnessed this mishap between Jim and Spock. He had been told to go. 

Fuck it all! 

Why can’t the both of them just leave Jim alone? Why corner him like this and -

The sound of Bones’ voice jolts Jim out of his gloomy thoughts.

“He already back in his own head?”

“He was, Doctor,” Spock answers, raises an eyebrow at Jim and meets his gaze as calmly as ever.

“Doctor? Really, Spock? You bloody… After what we talked about? _And_ after you’ve had your blasted hands and tongue all over me. And not just them. So, you can damn well call me by my name. Green blooded Hobgoblin.”

“Very well, Leonard.”

“Thank you ever so much, Spock.”

“Thanks are unnecessary, Leonard.”

“Oh, I wasn’t actually thanking you, _Spock_ ”

“I am aware, Leonard.”

 _All right._ Time to get out of here, Jim decides. Or, time to get _them_ out, as they are in _his_ damn room. But first –

Two hands grip Jim’s hips from behind. “Where do you think, you are going?”

Bones’ voice is closer to Jim’s ear, now. Much closer... He can feel the other man’s breath and the warmth of his body. 

Jim tries to wriggle free, inevitably moving closer to Spock by doing so. Which is so not good. And why does he even allow himself to be trapped like this? He is a combat trained Starfleet Officer, for fucks sake, and even better trained in _I-am-out-of-sorts-…-kinda…-but-I-can-sill-beat-the-shit-out-of-you…probably_. He can do better than this.

He can…

…be unceremoniously yanked around. Turned on his own axis. Again.

With Bones, it’s messier than with Spock before. Which surprises Jim exactly not at all. He overbalances, avoids falling against the other man but instead stumbles backwards, which brings him in hard contact with Spock’s chest.

Before Jim can remedy this particular slip, he is pressed against Spock even more – thanks to Bones. 

Then, Jim loses most of his ability to think. Likewise, thanks to Bones. Or rather, thanks to his lips. And his tongue. And his teeth.

 _God._ Kissing Bones is also messier than kissing Spock, Jim’s mind notes sluggishly. The other man’s body is a warm and heavy weight against his own, is equally demanding as are the hands tilting his head and holding it in place.

Jim still isn’t standing upright, he realizes. As if he hadn’t stopped falling. He’d probably be on the ground right now, weren’t it for Spock holding him _and_ Bones up. 

One strong vulcan arm is embracing Jim’s chest, the hand splayed wide over his left ribs, four fingertips exerting hot pressure, while the thumb is stroking his skin in a slow circle, taking advantage of a hole in Jim’s shirt.

Jim shivers. Groans into Bones’ mouth.

Groans again - in protest this time - when the other man stops kissing him.

“I must confess,” Bones says over Jim’s shoulder to Spock, “that you were right for a change. Your approach in dealing with Jim is _much_ better than allowing him to talk. Or, god forbid, to think.”

“Ey!” Jim interjects, because even if his knees might be embarrassingly weak, and even if he is wedged between the two persons he may have been fantasizing about in a very inappropriate manner and who – oh joy – are quite intimate with each other, he still –

“What Spock has been trying to tell you,” Bones breaks through Jim’s silent tirade, “is that he and I admitted to our feelings. And… Stop it with your eyebrows, Spock! Yes, I did say _feelings_. And you, Jim, stop running your thoughts towards that dark place of yours and start to _listen_ , for fucks sake!”

“Oh, I am listening, _Leonard_ ,” Jim drawls. “Thing is, you are talking but you don’t _say_ anything.”

The scowl Jim receives for that is blissfully normal. Bones’ hands on Jim’s hips are decidedly not. Even less so are the fingers skimming over the waistband of his trousers, playing with the idea of an even more intimate contact. Which reminds Jim – he isn’t wearing any underpants. Their absence makes him feel suddenly and vividly naked and decadent in a way that shouldn’t be possible considering his vast experience with being naked and decadent.

Bones strengthens his grip for a short moment, and heat shoots through Jim’s groin. He gasps for air, just as Spock puts his mouth against Jim’s ear.

“Leonard and I cherish each other. And we equally cherish you,” the Vulcan remarks calmly. Each word is a tingling touch.

Despite himself, Jim shudders. An embarrassing sound falls from his lips. He follows up with, “Yeah, sure you do.” Because - _come on_.

“I do not lie,” Spock speaks a little bit further away from Jim’s ear. Speaks with unaltered calmness. 

Or… Maybe not? 

Maybe there was something else underlying his words? Has been all along?

The arm around Jim’s chest tightens ever so slightly. The thumb is still moving. _Spock’s_ thumb. Just now, Jim realizes with full force what’s happening. Skin against skin. For no other discernible reason than to touch. That’s huge for a Vulcan, isn’t it?

But Spock can’t be serious. He can’t really mean… The three of them…? And how would the others even know that Jim might want to…? Well, yeah. There is his recent behaviour. But still…

Bones is watching Jim, who stares back. Blinks. Scowls, when Bones proves that he is just as good in doing the whole annoying-eyebrows thing as Spock.

“I told you something when I was drunk, didn’t I?” Jim asks with trepidation.

“One could say so.”

“Right…” Jim clears his throat. He lets his head fall back, jerks it up again when it inadvertently comes to rest on Spock’s shoulder and almost headbutts Bones in the process.

_Great. Very suave, Jim._

Spock is probably doing his _I-am-laughing-at-you-without-moving-one-facial-muscle_ non-expression right now. And Bones, Bones is clearly fighting a grin. Jim has the sudden urge to kick his shin. And to run away. And to laugh, or scream, or both. 

Dealing with feelings has never been his strong suit. Especially not with those who make you fucking vulnerable. And that’s what it is about, isn’t it? More than just sex. Which is so far from anything Jim knows and has experienced and, more importantly, allowed as of yet. He is the master of fun but ultimately meaningless encounters. Likes it exactly that way and _never_ wanted…

Well.

To be honest… The latter might not be actually true. 

The notion of being intimate with Bones without it meaning anything has always been an unrealistic one. And Spock… Jim may not have been thinking about him in _that_ way until very recently. Or, all right, to continue with the honesty-thing – hasn’t done so consciously. But now…

Yeah, he could not have sex with Spock without any – urgh - _feelings_ getting involved.

That’s how it is for Jim, at least.

And, if Spock actually said what Jim thinks he did, Jim’s _feelings_ might not be as one-sided as he believed them to be.

He isn’t quite sure what to think about that.


	5. Things you want - Part 2

“I’m,” Jim starts and licks his lips.

And Bones says, “Yes.” Which should be ambiguous as fuck, yet somehow isn’t.

Before Jim fully realizes what he’s about to do, he has already given in to the inexorable pull and brushed his lips against Bones’. The move feels dangerous. And exhilarating, all the same.

Compared to the previous kiss they shared no more than a few minutes ago, this one is chaste. Almost innocent, weren’t it for the silent intent in the strengthening of Bones’ grip and the miniscule brush of tongue Jim can’t help but end the kiss with.

Still chiefly on autopilot, Jim lets his head drop back and, this time, allows it to rest on Spock’s shoulder. Then, he does something he has secretly thought about more than once: He takes a hold of Spock’s hair. Hair, which soon won’t be as impeccably dressed as it always is, when Jim has any say in it. 

He pulls.

And Spock follows.

The kiss is kind of awkward, sideways and skewed because of the position they are in. Jim feels a twinge in his neck when he tries to turn his head even more. Yet, Spock’s lips are Spock’s lips, and they are pretty much addictive.

Jim tries not to think about the underlying meaning of his own actions, about the silent truth he is communicating. While he might bring himself to say out loud, “All right, I’m in. Let’s do this sexy threesome thing,” even his inner voice stumbles about words like, “I,” and, “care,” and, “for,” and, “both of you,” and, “very much,” when he imagines putting them together in this exact order.

Jim keeps the kiss as short as he did with Bones.

He doesn’t raise his head, after. Because doing so would mean to face Bones – which he is so not ready for. And won’t be for, let’s say, the next millennia.

Instead, Jim stares at the ceiling. He breathes in and out and tries not to panic – because panicking would be really annoying for so many reasons. Part of him still can’t believe that either Spock or Bones are genuinely interested in him. The other part… Parts… Well… There is more than one, and most of them aren’t exactly apparent or easily to see. 

Jim could probably spend eternities trying to unravel his inner turmoil – not that he _would_. Or, alternatively, he could concentrate on his knees and prevent them from buckling.

Because one of Bones’ fingertips slips underneath Jim’s waistband. It could have been by accident. Except - it is obviously not. 

A second finger joins the first, moves beneath the fabric in a slow and teasing slide, and Jim shudders and drops further against Spock, allows the Vulcan to hold him up.

He knows that there is a more than obvious bulge stretching the fabric of his trousers.

Spock’s other hand – the one which isn’t sprawled over Jim’s ribs – is a whisper in his hair, against the side of his face, his cheek, his jaw, the length of his exposed throat. There, it stops.

Jim has had Spock’s hand at his throat, before. But that was another situation, entirely. Now, Spock lets it just rests against Jim’s skin. A nearly impalpable pressure, strongest at the fingertips. 

Jim gulps.

The movement of his throat heightens the pressure. Spock’s grip might not be forceful at all, but it is unrelenting, and Jim feels kind of light-headed. Dizzy, even though he can breathe freely. Hot shivers flow through his body. 

With anyone else other than Spock or Bones, he would be alarmed over the vulnerability of his position, would get free and draw a very clear line. Not because he wasn’t interested in being overpowered. On the contrary if he is being true… But before, he has never trusted anyone. Not really. 

Jim might seem like the type to have lots and lots of sex – which is true – and to be reckless and without the sense to perceive and care about any of his _own_ boundaries – which is mostly part of the illusion he has built around himself.

Here and now, Jim allows himself to give in. He allows it to happen when Spock slightly strengthens his grip.

“You will pull your shirt up, as far as my arm around your chest allows it, to expose yourself, Jim” Spock speaks with the voice of someone who expects to be obeyed.

Jim’s body reacts almost instinctively, and he grabs the hem of his shirt and starts to lift it. The backs of his own hands drag against his skin like a forbidden touch, the words, “expose yourself,” echoing in his mind like a lewd whisper. He feels the muscles of his abdomen clench, laid bare to the eyes of Bones and Spock.

Halfway done, Jim stops his motion and is punished by Spock strengthening his grip anew. Or more like rewarded. Or both.

“You will do as I told you,” Spock says without inflection. 

“Or else?” Jim isn’t surprised by the raw sound of his voice.

“You are not yet prepared to find out.”

Spock’s answer sends a shiver through Jim’s body. For a moment, he toys with the idea to _find out_. Then, he decides to wait with this kind of power play, after all. Even if his mind conjures up interesting scenarios.

He gives in and follows Spock’s instruction.

“Shame, that he can’t pull it further up,” Bones says and puts his hand on Jim’s left pelvic bone – underneath the trousers.

“Be patient, Leonard,“ Spock answers as if Jim weren’t there. “He will be entirely naked in 10.57 minutes.”

“How _unexpectedly_ precise,” Bones drawls. He maddeningly doesn’t move his hand further down or to the side or - at all.

“Do not concern yourself with your failure at calculating the exact order of events in the same manner as a Vulcan does. Your limited accuracy is not uncommon for a human and to be expected.” 

While speaking, Spock has started to carefully, maybe even _playfully_ nip at Jim’s ear. This makes his words come out with short pauses and heightens the more than uncommon amusement in the Vulcan’s voice. Uncommon not in its existence – because Jim bets that Spock is constantly and sneakily taking the piss out of almost anyone – but more so because it’s clearly noticeable.

“So…,” Bones widens his grip, slightly moves his fingers and paints streaks of tingling touches on Jim’s skin. He is still talking to Spock. “You mean to say, I’m just an illogical, inferior human.” His undertone hints at mirth, as well.

“Precisely.”

“Oh, fuck you, Spock.”

“I will take this proposition into consideration for a later date.” Spock sucks Jim’s earlobe between his lips, bites down on it. 

Which sends an unexpected rush of arousal through Jim’s body – and what the actual fuck; his ears have never been this sensitive, have they? – and this almost drowns out Spock’s words. Almost. 

Jim’s mind needs a few moments to parse out the meaning. Then, another rush hits him, makes him groan. 

“For now,” Spock adds, his lips moving from Jim’s ears to his neck, “you will concentrate on fucking Jim.”

_Oh. My. God._ And holy shit. And…

“Hnff,” Jim says and feels Bones’ hands on him strengthen - involuntarily this time if you’d ask Jim.

Thankfully, Spock is still holding him upright. The bastard. This _fucking_ word out of his _fucking_ mouth is a sin itself. 

To his absolute horror, Jim feels himself blush.

As he is still restrained by Spock’s hand around his throat, he can’t see Bones. Can’t meet his gaze, and Jim would never admit it, but it’s easier that way. Even thinking about… 

He isn’t shy by nature. Not at all. But sometimes… he _is_. Which no one needs to know. Absolutely not. He has a reputation to uphold.

“What are…” _…you waiting for? Let’s get it on, guys. I’m all yours to use as you wish. I am_ very _flexible and… open. No need to hold back,_ Jim wants to say with all the lewdness and aplomb he can muster up.

He doesn’t come far but is interrupted by both Spock’s hand with it’s suddenly punishing grip around Jim’s throat – a short yet effective and undeniably hot warning to _shut up_ \- and Bones’ rough voice.

“I can do that,” the man says. “Excessively. But first… Any objections against me blowing him? Right now?”

“You’ve got 4.3 minutes, Doctor.”

“As you say, _Commander_.”

It happens so fast, Jim has hardly time to blink. One moment Bones is standing in front of him, hands _just so_ down Jim’s trousers, the next Jim’s trousers are around his ankles and hot breath ghosts over his groin. 

And then…

Then, hot breath is ghosting over Jim’s groin. Moving so very, very slowly. From one side to the other. Up and down. Brushing the soft and vulnerable spots below Jim’s hipbones, his pubic hair, his balls, the length of Jim’s almost painfully hard erection. Remaining still. Right over the head of Jim’s cock. 

Bones breathes in and out and in and out, and it’s like a series of soft touches. Light and teasing and not enough, yet nearly too much.

Jim holds his own breath and holds back the movement his hips want so badly. His muscles are tensed up. Spasming. In his legs, his ass, his stomach, his arms, his hands. The fabric of Jim’s shirt, still bunched up in his grip, is like an anker, helping him to keep it together. And simultaneously emphasizing his almost completely naked state.

God, Jim is so fucked. Pun fully intended.

Bones isn’t even touching him, just _breathes_ , and Jim fears he could come from this alone. And wouldn’t that be horrifically embarrassing…

“Running out of time, Bones,” Jim manages to get out.

“No reason not to savour this,” Bones says. Hums. “You’ve got a really cute mole right…,” with the tip of his tongue he taps a spot on Jim’s skin – maddeningly close to Jim’s cock, “…here.” 

Jim wants to give an appropriate answer to the use of “cute” in relation to his person – even when talking about a damn mole - but he is kind of busy with hanging in Spock’s grip and riding out a ridiculously intense… tingle. Which doesn’t sound like much, yet the sensation has him in a firm grasp, from head to toe. 

Spock moving his hand partially away from Jim’s throat and brushing a thumb over Jim’s bottom lip doesn’t make it easier to not just fall apart.

Not at all.

“You are such a tease.” Jim forms the words with difficulty. But it really needs to be said. “Both of you.” While talking, his lip touches Spock’s thumb again and again and again. “I hate you so much.”

“I am sure you do,” Spock says and pulls down Jim’s bottom lip a tiny bit, releases it and continues with the upper lip, alternates between pulling and stroking and dragging and all the while hints at the possibility of his thumb pushing between Jim’s lips. Pushing _in_.

Meanwhile, Bones continues tipping his tongue against Jim’s skin. “Hmm, yeah,” he says. “How much time do I have left?” As if they had to adhere to Spock’s predicted timeline without question.

“2.8 minutes.” Spock’s thumb moves deeper, now.

Without thinking about it, Jim lets him in. He parts his teeth and relaxes his jaw, purses his lips around the digit. Gets his tongue into play because he isn’t normally that passive. Nor innocent or completely overwhelmed.

Jim applies some suction - he is really, really good at _that_ \- and Spock actually shudders. Almost imperceptible, but it is there.

Jim hums around Spock’s finger.

“Well,” he hears Bones’ voice from afar, “then I’ll have a short taste, at least.” With that, Bones swallows Jim down. All the way.

And how can he even…? Doesn’t he have the tiniest trace of a gag reflex? How often has he _done_ something like this, before?

Then, Jim realizes what is happening. And he realizes that his body was faster than his mind, is already shivering and shaking and - _Oh fucking hell!_

Jim can hear his own moans fill the room when he is coming… Or - no. He is _not_. Coming, Not really, that is. His hips jerk, his stomach clenches, and he feels it pooling in his groin and in his balls and like – everywhere. 

But Bones has pulled off, is instead squeezing Jim’s cock. And Spock, wet thumb resting just below Jim’s bottom lip, gives short kisses to Jim’s temple, the side of his mouth, his ear. Which… Really, Spock is kind of fixated on the ear-thing. Isn’t he? An insight which Jim can’t properly concentrate on, right now. With his sanity and clear thoughts having been sucked out through his cock.

Same as it takes a few moments for Jim to realize that Bones isn’t the only one holding Jim back from tipping over the edge. Spock, even though he obviously hasn’t initiated a meld, does something that feels like a metal pull. It’s not invasive. More like… Steadying. Careful. And _tender_?

Jim doesn’t know if he should mind. A question he dismisses within a blink of an eye, as he does not. Mind, that is.

Being connected like that kind of feels right. In whatever way Spock manages to –

Manages to…

Jim’s thoughts repeat themselves nonsensically and drift off.

Because at some point, he seems to have lifted his head, and his gaze finds Bones’. 

Who is standing in front of him, with wet lips and a wicked smirk Jim has never before seen on his friend’s face. 

Who begins to slowly take off his shirt and reveals a soft yet well-defined and – without a question – muscled body. The subtle curves of his abs lead to a strong chest with coarse hair and dark, tantalizing nipples. 

Bones arms are crossed in front of his face, now, hands at the hem of his shirt and even the dark hair under his arms is arresting Jim’s gaze. Even though the position might be considered as casual, it feels oddly intimate to see his friend like this. 

Maybe, because he is putting himself on display, wants to bee seen, to be watched.

Straightening his arms, Bones pulls off the shirt completely and drops it – somewhere. Jim can’t be bothered to pay attention to a piece of fabric when he is presented with the sight of his half-naked friend.

Jim _has_ seen him like this before. And he may have had the one or other inappropriate fantasy featuring this particular view. But never was he allowed to openly _look_ like he is now. 

“You know,” Bones says, while Jim is kind of caught up in staring at the swell of his biceps, “the two of you are quite a sight to behold. But I’d prefer you to be in bed. Right about – now.”

“Indeed, Doctor,” Spock answers. And just like that, he picks Jim up with an ease as if he weighed nothing at all and carries him _bridal style_ \- what the fuck? – through the room. And before Jim has time to actually worry about the picture he makes being held like this with his trousers still around his ankles and his erection pretty much _there_ , Spock throws him rather unceremoniously onto the bed.

Continuously breathless from _almost_ coming and from Spock and Bones per se and damn well everything, Jim blinks up at Spock. Who arches an eyebrow. Calm and dignified as ever – weren’t it for the very obvious bulge that is stretching the fabric of his pants.

Jim licks his lips. First, without thinking about it. Then – with _intention_. An act which does _not_ make him blush. Jim Kirk never blushes. Ever. Damn it all to hell!

Spock’s eyebrow arches higher.

“That’s been more than 10.56 minutes, right Spock?” Jim tries for calm himself, tries to seem in control, regardless of the position he is in. He might not entirely manage. “Your calculation wasn’t all that perfect this time, was it?”

“10.57 minutes,” Spock corrects him. “Other than that, your observation is valid, Captain.” He omits the one word, he often uses as subtext. The word being, “surprisingly”.

And… shit. Jim will never again be able to sit on the bridge and be casually corrected by Spock without getting hard. Which means he’ll be sitting there with an erection all the fucking time. And Spock will come over from the science station to stand next to Jim, and he will look down and _know_ and… 

“Really, Jim?” Bones has stepped up to Spock. They’re both kind of looming over Jim. “Drifting off right now?”

“I believe, Leonard, he is indulging in a fantasy.” 

“And I _can’t_ fucking believe it. There’s damn better times for that.”

“Irrespective of your phrasing I see no reason to take an issue with your assessment,” Spock answers and Jim can see the almost but not perfectly concealed glint in his eyes while Bones mumbles something rude about “phrasing”.

“You do realize,” Jim throws in, “that I can hear you?”

“Can you, now?” Bones says and switches from seemingly disgruntled to intense in a heartbeat. Without further ado, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Jim yet doesn’t actually sit down. And he puts his hands to the sides of Jim’s head, leans down to his right ear and rumbles, “Can you hear this, too?”

Before Jim gets the chance to ask, “What’s _this_?” Bones pulls back a little bit, says in normal volume and with a steady voice, “I am going to fuck you, Jim.”

The bed dips again, but Jim doesn’t fully process it. Because Bones, his body so close to Jim’s yet not touching him, keeps talking, “I will spread your delicious ass cheeks and put my cock between them. So you can feel me against your hole. And I know that you’ll be impatient. That’s just how it is. But today, you aren’t the one in control. You can writhe and beg and moan, and you will do all of that… But when I’ll finally push inside you, it will be my decision to do so. And you will take it and continue moaning while I fuck you so hard that the slapping of our skin can be heard outside in the corridor.”

Bones leans closer and licks once into Jim’s mouth. “Any objections?” he asks.

Jim stares at him. Remembers breathing and stares some more.

And Bones, the bastard, shows off this wicked smirk. Again. And Jim is so terribly passive. Again. Not that he wouldn’t want to be just that. Quite the contrary. But he is so _obvious_ about it.

Jim quits staring. He narrows his eyes. 

Part of him _wants_ to push back. The imagination in itself is an electrified tingle all over his body and leaves him even more breathless. Jim would never say it out loud, but maybe…. Or… All right… Most certainly… Being forced to surrender by Bones and Spock, just a little bit, would be even better than just giving it up.

Rearranging his features to a lewd and provocative expression, Jim looks back at Bones. _Just you wait…_ , Jim’s gaze says. He makes sure of that.

Then, fast and well-coordinated, he moves his body in an elegant arc, positioning his legs just right, pushes, shoves and rolls, and in a matter of seconds he has flipped Bones onto his back and positioned himself on top.

Yeah…

Well…

Theoretically.

The _cursed trousers_ , still around Jim’s ankles, nip his plans in the bud. He comes as far as twisting and flailing somewhat undignified, rolls Bones over to his side – probably because the bastard allows it to happen – and finally ends up with his right arm pinned to the bed by Bones’ body, his nose buried in the man’s chest hair and his cock very much in contact with a strong and capable leg.

Before Jim knows it, his hips have started to make tiny, rolling motions. Which feels really fucking good but isn’t what he wanted to do, at all. So… _Stop it,_ Jim tells himself. 

With immense effort, he pulls back. Or, he would have. If he weren’t, yet again, utterly derailed. This time by Spock’s hand on his ass. 

Spock’s hand. 

On his very naked ass. His left cheek, to be precise. 

Spock’s hand. 

Palm and fingers and all. Just resting there, managing to feel unrelenting without exerting any force.

Spock’s hand.

For the moment, Jim’s mind seems to be kind of stuck.

When he hears Spock talking it doesn’t immediately register, but the light slap on his ass does. Very much so.

“Jim,” Spock repeats. “You will put your left hand over your head.”

It is clearly not a request.

Jim has already started to move when he realizes how easily he is obeying. Which… no. In an act of defiance, he drops his hand behind his body and comes to rest on soft fabric. He squeezes once and, yes, this is Spock’s leg. His thigh, probably.

There isn’t time to explore further, to have a proper grope, because Spock grips Jim’s wrist and puts his hand where he wants it to be. Jim resists, but he just as well could try to stop a planet’s movement with bare hands.

Inexorably, Jim is brought into position. Which is more arousing than he’d ever admit. He buries his face between Bones’ chest and the bed to hold back a truly embarrassing moan. Then, Jim’s arm is laid across his own head like a warm and almost calming weight, and his hand touches the mattress.

Whereas _Spock’s_ hand comes down on Jim’s ass with a sounding slap. 

Jim does moan at that. Or rather mewls – but in a completely dignified manner. Even if he might hide his face under his arm with purpose, now.

Spock slaps him again, hard and decisive.

And Jim’s hips stutter. He is still firmly pressed against Bones’ leg which… _Hell, no._ Jim is _not_ going to lose it again. Not yet. But apparently, he is going to continue the tiny movement of his hips. It feels so agonizingly _good_. The rough fabric of Bones’ trousers, the obvious strength of his thigh. The knowledge of whose body Jim is rubbing his cock against like he can’t fucking stop. And the knowledge of who is watching him.

The question if Spock is going to –

The third slap stings like hell. Its sound resonates, fills the room and mixes with Jim’s groan.

This time, Spock’s hand stays put, spread wide on Jim’s ass cheek. The touch seems to heighten the prickling and burning sensation even more, while it kind of soothes at the same time. Jim is sure to have a red handprint on his skin, and the thought alone makes the warmth spread, makes his whole body blush.

“One day,” Bones says against Jim’s head while Spock moves his hand, presses his little and ring and middle finger into Jim’s flesh, so very close to his hole - _God_ \- and strengthens the pressure further. One finger after the other.

“One day,” Bones repeats, “we are going to bend you over and slap your ass until your legs won’t carry you anymore.”

Spock pulls at Jim’s cheek, bares his hole to the cool air of the room and to Spock’s eyes, and the Vulcan’s thumb presses into Jim’s skin now, too, and it moves, follows the lower round of his ass.

“We are going to take turns,” Bones says. “treating your naughty ass right and proper.”

Spock stretches his whole hand, moves it lower until his fingertips brush over Jim’s balls in one steady sweep.

“And you are going to beg us for more,” Bones says. 

“That’s…” Jim’s breath catches because Spock’s fingers are still very much playing with him. He swallows a moan, gulps, clears his throat, tries again. “That’s kind of cliché, don’t you think?” he says even while he has a vivid picture of himself, bend over and writhing with pain and pleasure. _Begging._ “I’d –“

The rest of the sentence is deleted from Jim’s mind at the sudden pressure between his ass cheeks. Between. And against. His hole.

“Pull up his leg,” Spock says to Bones as if Jim hadn’t said a word. “I find myself wanting to see my fingers move in and out of Jim’s anus while I prepare him so he will be able to accommodate the substantial girth of your erected penis.”

Gulping again seems like the thing to do for Jim. And closing his eyes. Breathing against Bones’ chest, taking in the somewhat spicy and musky scent.

Bones, complying with Spock’s order or _desire_ , takes hold of Jim’s leg and pulls it up towards his own waist. For a short moment, Jim’s foot is held back by his trousers. Then he glides free and Bones can rearrange him, can expose him even more, while Jim’s mind repeats with emphasize, “substantial girth”.

Behind Jim, Spock does something that doesn’t include touching, and having to wait is almost unbearable. 

Jim’s body is kind of vibrating. He is full of anticipation and, maybe, fear. Or something close to it. Even after all that has transpired between them, he somehow can’t imagine to have _Spock’s_ fingers up his ass. Not in actual fact. The idea is just so… Far off? And so… So…

Then, Spock _is_ touching him.

It’s one gentle hand on the curve of his waist, followed by the mere hint of a finger brushing against Jim’s hole. 

“It would be prudent,” Spock says with this velvety and deep quality to his voice, “to relax your anus now, Jim.”

Jim feels a nervous laugh bubble up in his chest and his throat, and when he can’t hold it back, it comes out as a strange mixture of a laugh and a huff – mostly because Spock has stopped merely _hinting_.

His finger slips easily into Jim. 

It’s not too broad, but definitely noticeable. A hard and insistent pressure, moving deeper – slowly but without respite. And in between trying to catch his breath and gripping the fabric of the mattress over his head, Jim realizes how arousing this kind of contact must be for Spock. His fingers _are_ quite sensitive, aren’t they?

Spock pulls out and pushes in again. And then he really gets started. He doesn’t so much open Jim up but rather fucks him with all the agility his every move speaks of.

After that, Jim’s senses blur – more than before - and everything is movement and touch and fingers in him and on him. Sounds. Loud. Then, scarcely audible. His right arm still trapped beneath Bones’ body, his left one kept still by himself. Sweat on his skin. His breath damp against Bones’ chest. A nipple at his mouth, beneath his tongue. The taste of sweat and skin and man. 

The room around Jim is narrow - confined by sensation, by Spock and by Bones – yet broad because of that, of them.

Some jostling, nudging, pulling.

All of which comes to a sudden halt. And Jim is staring up at Bones. He finds himself on his back. A position he hasn’t assumed without noticing, of course. Not completely. Then again…

There has been so much else and now, for a moment, it’s just him and Bones. Watching each other.

With a, for once, unpleasant prickle, Jim’s right arm makes itself felt – a result of being caught beneath Bones’ body for quite some time. But he doesn’t pay it any attention.

His legs are bent, bracketing Bones’ hips and allowing the other man to push up against him. To push between. Bones isn’t inside Jim… yet. But the pressure against his hole is sure and obvious, held back with thinly veiled impatience. 

It’s a reality that has Jim shudder with anticipation. And a hint of nervousness. Again. One would never guess that he is, in fact, as far from a virgin as… Jim can’t think of anything fitting, right now. As it is hard to think _at all_.

Still, Jim does manage to wriggle his eyebrows in a highly annoying manner – he might practise stuff like that in front of the mirror – and Bones rolls his eyes and bends down. Kisses Jim. Hard and fast, and in the same breath, he pushes in.

And - _holly hell_.

The words “substantial girth” come back to Jim rather impressively. And he likes it. He really, really does.

” _Fuck,_ ” Jim utters. Groans, maybe. „Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hands, searching for something, flail at his sides.

Until his left finds Bones’ arm which is braced against the mattress, and he clasps it, feels the muscles working under his grip. His right is caught by Spock. Elegant and strong fingers have Jim in a steady hold.

Jim lets go of the breath he has been holding. 

And Bones is still pushing in. Slowly, carefully. And… yes… it does hurt. Even after Spock has prepared him quite thoroughly. Yet, it’s not a bad kind of hurt but rather… Something else. Jim has no words to describe it, or he might not want to use them. Stuff like submission and possessed and… nah, whatever. 

Finally, Bones is all the way in, his crotch firmly pressed against Jim’s ass. For a moment, he stays like that. Then, he pulls out, skin dragging against skin, until only the head of his cock remains inside. Positioned like that, Bones moves his hips in tiny shoves, rotates them, always changing the angle, and Jim curses, strengthens his grip on Spock’s hand, sinks his fingernails into Bones’ arm.

He lets his legs fall open, lifts his ass towards Bones and wordlessly urges him to go deeper, to carry on like this, to… do whatever he wants. Just… _Don’t stop_

Bones plays with Jim’s entrance a bit more before he penetrates him deeper, again, and he is still so careful, which… “Come on,” Jim says. “I won’t break. Just _fuck_ me already.”

And Bones does.


	6. Things you want - Part 3

Jim might have lost some time, again. Next thing he knows, Spock has let go of his hand and is stroking a slow path over the side of Jim’s leg, his hip and waist and higher. The touch is soft and would be steady weren’t it for the movement of Jim’s body, caused through the hard thrusts Bones is fucking him with.

Spock has reached Jim’s shirt, which he is _still_ wearing, and pushes it up with his touch, brushes through Jim’s chest hair, over his right nipple. And when Jim involuntarily bucks into the touch, Spock doesn’t pause for a moment. But he brings his other hand into play, pinching and rubbing and alternating between Jim’s left and his right nipple, all the while stroking gentle fingertips over the shirt and through the dip under his Adam’s apple, sideways along his collarbone and up again along the side of his neck to his ear. Around the outer shell of Jim’s ear, along his cheekbone towards –

Choosing this moment to slightly change the angle of his thrusts, Bones hits Jim’s sweet spot head on… and on, and on and…

 _”Fuck!”_ Jim groans and, _„Fuck, fucking Fuck!”_

His touch still gentle, Spock brushes careful fingertips over Jim’s lips even while Jim is cursing. Then, Spock speaks, and his voice naturally isn’t chiding… just… it kind of _is_. “Your penchant for profanity is unbecoming a Starfleet Officer,” he says.

_Oh God._

Fingers at Jim’s mouth, those words and the whole situation… Only thing missing is a terribly cliché sentence like, “Let’s find a way to shut you up.” Or, “We will find a better use for that mouth of yours.” None of which Spock adds. 

That stuff is all in Jim’s head. Is it?

Spock is silent, right now, but his gaze… It might…

Jim licks his lips and Spock lifts that damn eyebrow. There _is_ something wicked in his eyes.

 _Just do it,_ Jim thinks to himself, locks eyes with Spock and says very deliberately, “Fuck.” He feels the word on his lips, letter for letter, feels his teeth on his lips, the trapped air behind them tingling and then rushing free, and finally the clicking sensation in his throat.

Jim isn’t exactly sure what he expects to happen next. 

Spock remaining silent is certainly no surprise. Spock shifting closer and putting his crotch in front of Jim’s face shouldn’t be one, as well. Should it?

Spock’s eyes say more than words ever could. Which isn’t exactly new. But the intensity and even more so the intention and heat in his gaze hits Jim unexpectedly. The porn-like dialogue is kind of implied and – no surprise _there_ \- gracefully surpassed.

Slowly but without hesitation, Spock brings his hands up and – Jim is completely transfixed even while being fucked through it all – opens his trousers in front of Jim’s face. And, equally purposeful, Spock takes out his cock.

It is long and hard and elegant. And how can a damn cock even _be_ elegant?

It’s round head points towards Jim’s mouth and yes… His lips are slightly parted, and he wets them with the tip of his tongue, conscious of being watched. He wants –

Before Jim can do anything else, Spock takes hold of his jaw and pushes Jim’s head up and back until his throat is stretched and the pillow, unnoticed until then, is a soft weight against his brow.

“Open your mouth,” Spock says, and Jim realizes that he has closed it, same as he has closed his eyes. He gulps, his throat moving against the strain, and does as he is told.

He keeps his eyes shut.

Bones has softened and slowed his thrusts, and Jim gives in to the feeling of _Spock’s cock_ parting his lips further and moving in, touching against the roof of his mouth. He works his tongue against the velvety flesh and feels the hand at his jaw tighten.

A proof of Spock’s reaction to Jim – somehow even more tangible than the clear evidence of his hard cock in Jim’s mouth.

After a few moments, Spock pulls out again. Jim can hear him spit and he doesn’t need to see anything to know what the Vulcan is doing. He risks a look, anyway. And how could he ever think that Spock’s gaze was intense, before. Compared to now…

With a nervous flutter of anticipation in his stomach and, well… everywhere… Jim closes his eyes again.

Spock’s wet cock touches against his lips. “Now, Jim, I am going to penetrate you as deep as I am able to. I will use your mouth and your throat for my purpose and pleasure. While doing so, I will be as rough as I see fit.” Spock says. “And you will not fight me.”

Jim could say no. Spock surely didn’t formulate a question, but there is one in the stillness he is holding himself with instead of promptly putting his words into practise.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jim hears himself growl, and what he means by that is, _”Make me. Force me to take it.”_ But speaking that out aloud… No way. 

“As you wish, Jim,” Spock says. The grip at Jim’s jaw becomes harder. Unrelenting. Then, before he knows what happened, Jim gags around the hard intrusion in his throat. And without further warning or waiting, Spock really _fucks_ Jim’s mouth.

Bones picks up pace as well and resumes his hard thrusts. 

And Jim finds himself shoved against the pillow again and again and pressed into the mattress and possessed and ravaged, and he can’t catch his breath and can’t take any control at all. He moans and groans and tries to breathe around Spock’s cock and spreads his legs for Bones as wide as he can - and he fucking _loves_ it. All of it.

After an indefinite time, Bones changes the pace.

He pushes as deep as physically possible and stays like that. His hands clamp around Jim’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and he pulls at Jim, pulls him hallway onto his lap, forces his body into a bow. Bones groans, a sound formed deep in his throat, jerks and shudders and comes inside Jim.

It’s enough to almost push Jim over the brink as well. But Spock, yet again, pulls him _back_ , somehow. And Jim is torn between swearing with all his might and begging Spock to do it again and again. All of that silently, of course, as his mouth is still quite _full_.

Jim expects Spock to come down his throat or onto his face, next.

What he doesn’t expect, is Spock pulling out just as Bones does the same and then moving _away_ from Jim’s face.

Jim gets a last look at Spock’s cock, hard and glistening with spit. Then, Bones is there, takes Jim’s head between his hands and kisses him with deep and thorough strokes of his tongue. And Spock –

Spock takes the place between Jim’s legs, and he sinks into him with an ease as if he’d do this all the time. Hallway sitting, hallway leaning over Jim but not touching him apart from the obvious point, he starts to move.

His strokes are slower than Bones’ had been but nevertheless even stronger, each thrust ending deep and hard and with controlled determination. Spock isn’t just fucking Jim, he is _taking_ him.

Jim’s left hand is burrowed in Bones’ hair, his right –

And how hasn’t he thought of this before?

He closes his right hand around his cock. Or… he tries to. But Spock slaps him away and Bones, momentarily distracted from kissing, takes a hold of Jim’s hand and pushes it up and into the pillow.

“You will not touch yourself to reach orgasm,” Spock says, unperturbed moving in and out of Jim. “Your climax is Leonard’s and mine to bring about. At a time we determine appropriate.” And Spock’s pace does pick up a bit, making his thrusts almost punishing.

Jim’s moan is swallowed by Bones, and he is aware that he’d be begging right now if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. 

Then, it happens.

Spock comes.

With a sound almost like a sigh. 

And the fact alone that he _did_ make a sound might be one of the hottest things Jim ever experienced. And he’ll probably replay it in his mind later, when he isn’t so, so close to –

“Leonard,” Spock says. He pulls his softening cock out of Jim. And isn’t it wildly unfair that Bones _and_ Spock have come now, yet Jim has very decidedly _not_ “I want you to fellate Jim once more,” Spock continues.

Yeah… Well… Maybe there is something good about being the last one. Maybe –

_Hnff…_

Spock has shifted his weight, but he remains between Jim’s legs, and he has closed his hand around Jim’s erection and… just holds it.

The attempt to lift his hips and fuck up into Spock’s grip is answered with an almost casual yet unmovable hand on Jim’s groin, pushing him down. Pinning him to the mattress.

And Bones kisses Jim a last time before pulling away and moving down to Spock, hopefully – oh, _please_ \- to follow Spock’s order.

“Fellate, you say?” Bones asks, maddeningly, finding a place next to Jim’s hip. “I might if you ask me again, Spock. No, not _you_ , Jim. You hold your tongue and look beautiful.”

Jim might be tempted to say _something_ , but his rebellious side is somewhat buried, right now. So, he does hold his tongue and wriggles against Spock’s hold and tries to get _some_ friction – which DOESN’T WORK… _Fuck! IT!_

 _Do something_ , he thinks at the bastard between his legs and the one next to his hip.

“No repetition is necessary, Leonard. You know what is expected of you.” Spock is already pointing Jim’s cock towards Bones. Jim strains his head to see it, to see them, to see Bones’ lips. And his cock is hard and waiting and goddamn _dripping_. And Bones _still_ talks.

“Come on, Spock. Use some dirty words. You know how much he likes it.”

“Very well,” Spock says as if he’d grandly give in to the illogical human, but he doesn’t sound averse, at all. “See how hard Jim is and how desperate. I could jerk him off right now and it would be over within seconds. But it is not going to happen like that. Not today. Instead, you will bend down, part your lips and take Jim’s penis into your mouth. You will suck him off, Leonard.”

Even trough his arousal Jim realizes that he is gaping. And that he _is_ almost painfully hard and – oh, yes – more than desperate. And Bones - 

Bones is actually blushing. And he buries an apparently rough hand in Spock’s hair, pulls him in and kisses him. Or rather devours him. 

It’s a sight, Jim can’t tear his eyes from. For a moment, it distracts him from his own… let’s say, issue, while simultaneously making it even more urgent.

As abruptly as Bones started the kiss, he ends it, and when he does and pulls back, Spock follows him in a fraction of a movement. 

Jim would marvel at that, weren’t it for Bones first putting a hand on Jim’s stomach, then putting his mouth further south. He doesn’t go as fast as he did the first time which is both great and torturing and becomes something else entirely when Spock bends down and _joins him_.

Both of them move their lips and their tongues over Jim’s cock, and he feels their come leaking out of his hole, and they kiss each other with Jim in between, they lick and suck, and Jim’s brain bows out right about now.

He claws at the pillow, the mattress, his own hair, and distantly he can hear himself fill the room with sound while his legs are splayed wide and his skin is one fire.

Someone pulls at his sack.

Someone pushes a finger into his hole.

Two pair of lips are working at the head of his cock.

And Jim feels the muscles in his legs contract, followed by those in his whole body, and a sudden buzzing and white noise in his ear drowns out anything else. 

He jerks. 

His orgasm rushes over him, unstoppable now and overpowering every last shred of control.

For a while, Jim has no concept of time or of anything, really. 

Then, slowly coming back to himself and his surrounding, he realizes that he came onto both Spock’s and Bones’ face and his stomach and, apparently, his own chin.

Bones and Spock are kissing again. It is utterly filthy. And hot as hell. If he physically could, Jim would come again from the sight alone.

He lets his head fall back, sinks into the mattress and closes his eyes. Or they close themselves. Whatever. 

He has no idea how long they have been at it. Quite long, probably. Feels like it, at least. Same as the end seems sudden. But this is not the end, right?

Jim allows the thought to pass by. 

And would it be terribly bad form to fall asleep right now? Like that?

Lips are touching his skin in slow kisses. Moving up his body, and Jim can at least stay awake until…


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because the text doesn’t have enough porn in it, already…

Jim wakes up with his own legs thrown over Bones’ and with Spock’s head on Jim’s chest – a position he would never have imagined the Vulcan to be in.

Bones is breathing regularly, clearly asleep, and Spock is painting small circles onto Jim’s hip.

“We are bonded, aren’t we?” Jim speaks into the silence of the room, following an intuition that turns into certainty even before Spock answers, “Yes.”

_Huh._

Jim is neither shocked nor surprised – which might be an issue for a later time. Or at least some questions should be answered. Maybe. 

Later. 

Right now, Jim just feels… content.

But, “What about Bones? Are you two…?”

“We are not bonded,” Spock says. “Yet.” And this last word sounds very much like, “It will happen soon.”

 _Good,_ Jim thinks and allows himself to fall asleep, again.

***

“Hey Spock,” Jim says. “Think you can hold me up against the shower wall?”

“I presume you do not need your question answered but instead are implying a desire for me to hold you up so you will not be able to leave without my permission. I further assume that you want to be penetrated in this position while Leonard watches our copulation and prepares himself to enter you as soon as I will have ejaculated inside your anus.”

Someday, Spock is going to kill him with a single word. Or, more like, a very long sentence… But… Right now…

“Time for a shower, guys! You coming, Bones?”

***

“You know, I have been thinking about sex in the Captain’s chair,” Jim states and Bones just looks at him.

“Who hasn’t?” he says.

“But we cannot put this fantasy into practise,” Spock, the spoilsport, adds.

Jim pouts. “You are no fun, Spock.”

“The way you are _’bouncing on my cock, right now’_ , as you would call it, suggests that you do find at least a part of me to be ‘ _fun’_ , Jim.”

***

“Hey, Bones?”

“What now, Jim? I am kind of busy…”

Jim snorts and lifts his ass further towards the other man. “If you want to call it that.”

As an answer, Bones next thrust is hard enough to shove Jim’s cock rather harshly all the way back into Spock’s ass, as well.

For some time, there is no one talking.

Until, “Bones?”

“Damn it, Jim, can’t we just go back to you being all pliant and _keeping your mouth shut for at least a tiny fucking bit_?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

“As a Doctor,” Spock chimes in, even if slightly muffled by Jim’s impulsive kiss, “you should be able to give your attention to more than one task at a time.” Spock bites Jim’s bottom lip quite viciously and continuous, “If you do not find yourself able to adhere to this standard, it would be prudent to reassess your professional career.”

Jim pinches Spock’s ear in retaliation, snickers – in a very mature way, of course - and says, “Listen to Spock, Bones. He is clearly superior. And… Anyway, what I wanted to ask… How does it feel to be kind of married to Spock and me?”

Bones fucks into Jim a few times. “I am truly questioning my sanity,” he says and changes his position to that devastating angle that always makes Jim moan the loudest.

“As you should,” Jim forces out. Then he gives in to the onslaught.


End file.
